


lies in the darkness

by AlexSeanchai



Series: Daughter of the Sun [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Podfic Welcome, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 14:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: Fractured as the watcher was,the watcher never lacked for opponents:courage played against loyalty,orintelligence against faith.Sometimes the watcher set up tournamentsin which all the parts of the watcher competed;the winner was never the same twice running.





	lies in the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Drafted in 2014.

Days and nights

blurred together  
in

silent

darkness  
to the part of the watcher aware

of the world  
outside the stone maze  
where most of the parts of the watcher resided.

The watcher passed the time with games.

Fractured as the watcher was,  
the watcher never lacked for opponents:

courage played against loyalty,

or

intelligence against faith.  
Sometimes the watcher set up tournaments

in which all the parts of the watcher competed;  
the winner was never the same twice running.

Try as the watcher might,

the watcher could never piece oneself together.

* * *

The sound of a footfall pierced the quiet.

Interesting.

This had happened a few times before, but always the invaders were, to put it simply, tomb robbers, unworthy of the Shadow Games.

Still, it was a change, and a welcome one.

The watcher went to watch the fun.

The opponent this time was a short man, attired strangely, but the tenor of the opponent's thoughts told the watcher that this manner of dress was meant to be respectful to the tomb's inhabitant. A point in the man's favor. The opponent had two companions, dressed in a more familiar way; one concealed a weapon of peculiar design.

"It's a game room!" exclaimed the opponent, upon entering the first trap for the unwary.

The opponent—whose face, the watcher realized, was familiar—stood in silent contemplation for several moments. The older of the companions moved, impatient; his foot pressed against one of the triggers: the spike-covered stone dropped to block the entrance, and the wall began to advance, forcing the opponent and companions into the maze, among the armed shabtis that moved every time one of the three took a disrespectful step.

"Listen to me!" shouted the opponent after only a few moments. "Keep your left leg in front as you move!"

Respect to the pharaoh. Very good.

The younger companion, the unarmed one, couldn't follow the opponent's sage advice. (Of course. That's why the opponent looked familiar. What was the man's name?) Two of the shabtis skewered him on their swords. No loss.

The older companion—the only companion—screamed in rage and drew his weapon, pointing it at the opponent. "It's your fault my little brother died!"

"Give it up," said the opponent calmly. "That's the rules of the Shadow Games."

So the opponent knew exactly what he was seeking.

The second trap was the more dangerous of the two. Siamun—that was the opponent's name! or had been, long ago—could cross the bridge without difficulty, the watcher saw: this was only a game to Siamun. A thrilling game, a dangerous game, but only a game. The companion hung back, thinking of death and gold, with his weapon aimed squarely at Siamun.

The weapon made a noise like a whip crack, echoing in the chamber. Several arms-lengths away, Siamun fell.

The companion rushed across the bridge. Not fast enough. No one could be fast enough to escape the monsters sealed in the very stones across which the companion ran.

"See you in hell," the companion said with a sneer, and "the gold!" as the monsters began to stir.

Unworthy.

Siamun clung to the bridge by the fingers of one hand. The pain must be unbearable: that was the side with the wound.

The watcher drew enough power from the pieces of the Puzzle to conjure a form solid enough to speak the words "Siamun, I've been waiting," to offer him a hand up, to press that same hand against the wound and pull out the small pellet flung from the peculiar weapon, to stem the bleeding and weave the flesh back together.

Long minutes later, Siamun stood up, a hole in his strange clothing but otherwise no worse for wear. He took the last steps to the waiting place of the Millennium Puzzle.

The watcher, exhausted but pleased, slept.


End file.
